The Many Loops of Ryuuji Takasu
by Billybobjoe47s
Summary: Ryuuji Takasu's had a really strange day. And when meeting the Palmtop Tiger isn't the strangest thing in his day- or even being attacked by her in the middle of the night!- something is up. Why does he keep repeating the same things over and over again?
1. Chapter 1

_ A quick A/N: I'm a fan of time loops to the extreme, and after I finished all of__ Toradora!__ in 3 days, I had to write some fanfics in the fandom, and I saw there were no looping stories, so I went for it!_

_ This is based off of the basic premise of the Infinite Loops (google it, there's a wiki and a TVTropes page), with a few changes. Due to data corruption, loops aren't limited to a beginning event that always starts a loop. The loop will repeat (from the last time the looper slept) until the series of events plays out 'Right,' e.g. canon events. Obviously, there is going to be a lot of comedy, but there will be an overarching plot, as well._

_ In addition, the 'fused loops' (think of them as crossovers) will not be occurring anywhere near as soon as usual due to aforesaid corruption, and I'll likely put those in a different story once I'm further along with this._

_ For in-show dialogue, I'm using the Mirror 2 subs of this. Just to be OCD about small differences in dialogue between subs (or dubs, if that's your cup of tea)._

_ So, without further ado, let the loops begin!_

**Cycle 1, Loop 1: The First Day**

_Syslog 019274.21_

_ RUN SYSCHECK_

_ Scanning… ERROR! Connection with /net/Yggdrasil lost_

_ Retrying…_

_ Connection broken_

_ WARNING! Corruption possible, resetting to safe mode…_

_ WARNING! Data corruption detected! Safe mode cancelled until corrupted files repaired._

_ Run _

_ ERROR! corrupted, run failed. Attempting to retrieve backup files from /net/Yggdrasil…_

_ ERROR! Connection lost._

_ Run _

_ ERROR! Corruption detected._

_ Run _

_ Booting…_

_ Boot success. Branch 7119 localizing corruption…done. Attempting to fix corruption…_

_ ERROR! Data lost, backup to Yggdrasil unavailable. Entering damage-control mode…_

_ Data corruption: 10e-25%_

_ Time until corrected: N/A_

_ Consequences: Low probability of worldcrash or catastrophic error. Low probability significant worlderrors. Low probability localized worlderrors._

_ WARNING! High probability of individual worlderrors… data corruption detected in timefiles/indiv98123453. Timeerrors detected… localizing and isolating indiv98123453…done._

_ Further responses: Yggdrasil unresponsive. Options limited to mode/dmgcontrol until network responds._

_ Actions: Continue isolation of indiv98123453. Monitor for further spread of corruption. Isolate as needed._

_ Administrative options edited… runtime set to permanent._

_ END SYSLOG_

It was a bright, early morning, but inside Ryuuji Takasu's small apartment, it was dim. He stood at his mirror, fingering his recently-cut bangs, scrutinizing them carefully, magazine at his side. It took only a few seconds before he frowned and sighed, "This reeks of fake," and chucked the magazine into the trash.

Unfortunately, his disgusted toss unbalanced the small can, and it toppled over and spilled the magazine and the rest of the trash onto the ground. He sighed again, and knelt to pick it up, but as he did so, his eyes wandered to the wall behind the wastebasket.

On the very bottom, next to the floor, mold was growing. Again. He'd just scrubbed there two days ago! This apartment bred mold like rabbits, he swore as he stood with a groan.

He'd have to get that this afternoon after school. As he stood and opened the curtain, though, his eyes returned to that evil growth of fungus.

…Or he could just clean it now. "Where did I put that rag?" he muttered to himself, searching around in his bathroom. Finding it, he wetted the cloth and began to scrub vigorously at the offending mold. It refused to budge, and he grumbled as he reached for his mold-scrubbing tool (he'd put this one together himself for maximum cleaning efficiency) and rubbed at it once more. A noise caught his ear, and he turned and listened for a moment. Was Yasuko already waking up?

The noises quickly subsided, however, and he returned to the task at hand, scrubbing until all the mold was dead. "Ha!" he laughed, and derisively washed his hands of the filth. "Now for breakfast…"

He hummed a nonsensical little song under his breath as he prepared his breakfast and Yasuko's, wrapping hers carefully before eating his. He tied up the trash and moved out to the main room, messy and strewn with clothing.

The bird cage hung in the corner was still silent under its covering, and he berated it, "Inko, you're still resting? It's morning already," while he cleaned up.

He moved over to the veranda doors, picking up as he went, until a pair of legs unexpectedly grabbed his own as he was moving and bending down to pick up his mother's purse.

Not expecting it, he was knocked off balance, and as Yasuko mumbled, "I got you!" he teetered and fell… headfirst, straight for the corner of the table.

_'Crap,'_ was the only thought he could form before his head slammed into it, with a burst of pain.

Ryuuji gasped and bolted up in bed, feeling for his head. There was nothing… he'd just woken up, and the day was beckoning.

That had been an odd dream… weren't they supposed to be off-the-wall? It had been like he had already done his morning once, now, and as he checked his bangs, they looked just as fake as they had in his dream.

This time, he threw the magazine down with even more force, and the trashcan fell over just like in his dream. Strange. He stared down at the spilt trash for a second, before kneeling down—

That mold. It was in the corner again. Just like—

Had he had some sort of prophetic dream? Everything was turning out exactly like the dream, so far…

He prepared breakfast (pushing through the feeling that he'd already done it once) and moved to the messy main room to clean up. This time, he was more careful in his cleaning, picking up the clothes first and setting them aside before moving for the purse.

The legs grasping at his caught him by surprise, and in a moment of déjà vu he found himself falling, though he fell onto the rug this time. "I got you!" his mother mumbled.

"Mother!" he complained, untangling himself and standing up. "I told you last night I have school from today on, right?"

"How cold of you, Ryuuji," she pouted, but nodded in confirmation. "Congratulations on passing last year! Today's the opening ceremony, right?"

"Stop being so sarcastic," he said with a roll of his eyes.

She ignored him, instead ordering, "Hey, the room's dark. Open the curtains!"

"They are open," he said, repressing a sigh.

"Oh, the new apartment building," his mother remembered.

He mm'd in agreement. "It makes it hard to dry the laundry."

He shouldered on his jacket and grabbed his pack. "Anyway, I need to go."

He made for the door, but as he opened it and stepped onto the stairs, Yasuko asked, "You're leaving already? What about my meal?"

He grabbed the trash (he'd take it to the disposal site on his way to school), and called, "It's where it always is!" as he began to go down the stairs.

A thought hit him halfway down. Had he wrapped her meal? He'd prepared it, but… No, no, he hadn't wrapped it!

He spun on the steps, intending to head back upstairs and rectify the error, but a patch of mold (curse all fungus!) took the traction off one of his feet, and he slipped and fell backwards, trash spilling out around him as he slammed into the ground head-first—

He gasped and sat up, once again cradling his head. He looked around. He was back in his room. His uniform for the first day of the new school year hung on its hangar. But he'd already put that on today once—

No, not once. Twice. He'd dismissed it as a dream the first time, but—again?

"What on earth?" he mumbled, face still in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Cycle 1, Loop 3, Day 1**

Not bothering to check his bangs this time (he bet they looked just as bad as they had the last two times), Ryuuji nearly leapt into his clothing before moving to the kitchen, beginning to cook breakfast.

As he finished with the ingredients and waited for the rice to finish cooking, he grabbed his mold stick and moved to the bathroom, placing the wastebasket to one side. Sure enough, that same mold stain was still there, in the exact same shape and mocking his cleanliness.

Angrily, he scrubbed at it until the dread fungus was dead and gone. He washed his hands and finished up just in time for the rice cooker to signal its completion. Carefully, he wrapped his mother's breakfast and ate his own.

Only then, essentials out of the way, did he allow himself to begin to think. He'd already done this twice. It couldn't have been a dream; everything was the same, down to that last patch of mold. Somehow, every time he was knocked out, the day reset. He'd hit his head twice; twice he'd woken up back in his bed.

Was the universe giving him a second chance for some reason? Or was something wrong? He didn't remember ever being so clumsy; falling over was not something that had ever occurred to him frequently, even when he'd shot up six inches in a year.

His wandering eyes fell on the clock. He still had a few minutes before he needed to start walking, but he'd fallen twice before while trying to clean up the main room, where his mother was lying, sleeping. He didn't fancy hitting his head a third time and having to clean mold and cook breakfast all over again.

Or, at least, cleaning the mold again.

He shrugged on his pack and opened the front door quietly, shutting it just as softly behind him. He'd just show up early to school. Maybe it would turn out for the better; he'd be able to avoid the whispering, nervous crowds of other students, this time. And surely Kitamura was there early; he was probably setting up the opening ceremonies now.

He ran over possible answers to his strange plight as he slowly made his way to school, step by step. Each only grew more outrageous and improbable, and after a few minutes of running over scenarios, he gave up on that line of thought with a sigh.

Instead, he began to muse about the mechanics of whatever he was in. Did it trigger only when he was knocked unconscious? Or was sleep included? What about sedation?

And why did he keep falling headfirst into things? Was it the universe's reset button? 'Oh, Ryuuji screwed up, better knock him out and try again,' he thought, but then tossed that thought out. Surely the universe was more imaginative then making some teenager fall over.

A kid brushed past him at a jog as he crossed the street, and he heard a, "Hey, wait up!" from behind in the background as he remained deep in his thoughts.

He was abruptly knocked out of his reverie by said voice from behind knocking into him in their rush to catch up to their friend. Again, he fell to the ground, scraping his palms painfully on the asphalt. Falling over again… was that really all-?

He turned his head and saw the car coming.

"Oh."

"GAH!" He woke, thrashing in panic as he tried to scramble out of bed, only to get caught in the sheets and tumble into the desk—

"SERIOUSLY?!" he screamed as his eyes opened. He checked the clock, and his heart sunk. It was, once again, the same morning. To the second.

Which meant that breakfast was uncooked, that mold was eating at his baseboards, and at some point in the future, two kids were going to be running on the sidewalk to the high school.

"Note to self, pay attention this time," he muttered as he set out to the bathroom.

"Hey, wait up!" he heard from behind once again, and this time, though he was jostled, he did not fall on the crosswalk.

The kids turned and looked at him, as he recognized them as only a year behind his own. He'd passed them in the halls many times last year.

"Takasu!" they gasped, before scrambling over. "We didn't see you—we're so sorry!" they bowed.

Then the selfsame car blew through the crosswalk—taking the two kids with it.

Horrified, Ryuuji watched as their bodies flew into the intersection, seemingly in slow motion. None of the speeding cars on the road had the time to stop, and a sickly series of crunches heralded a spray of blood.

Of their own accord, his legs tilted and sent him into the street. This time, he never saw the car that hit him.

This time, he simply stared at the ceiling in disbelief for a few minutes. "Was that… the reason?"


End file.
